All language subtitles for Inside No. 9 - S03E03 (EN)

- Corrected by darthfrede -
-- www.addic7ed.com --

What's going on?
Who are you?

Oh, for God's sake, you scared
the living crap out of me then! Jesus!

- Are you all right?
- I just need to sit down for a second.

Oh, shit!

Sorry,
I didn't mean to startle you.

That's all right.
You haven't got a towel, have you?

Yes.

Thanks. It's wetter than
a nun's cucumber out there tonight.

Thanks. Can you...
Can you put the gun down, please?

Of course.
It's not loaded,

it was just a prop from a
student production of The Seagull.

Can I ask what you're
doing in my rooms?

I presume you didn't
break in for a towel.

Well, I... I didn't break in.
Well, not technically.

My boyfriend told me all professors
keep a key above their glory hole,

so I sort of just let myself in.

It was a stupid thing to do.
I'm... I'm so sorry.

And you are?

Nina.
Nina... Noonah.

Nina Noonah.

Well, not really, obviously,
but I don't want to get in any trouble.

You're... You're not going to
call the police, are you?

It's all right, Miss Noonah,
my bark is worse than my bite.

Just tell me why you're here.

It's just Simon, my boyfriend,
he studies at King's College

and he's properly clever.

He's got a bike and scarf
and all the Harry Potter shit.

And he's sort of obsessed
with doing the crossword.

And I don't mean the
quick ones you get

with a picture of Vanessa Feltz
in the middle in Chat magazine,

I mean, the cryptic.

I see.

And I try to help him sometimes

and I... I look at the clues
and I feel like such a div

because I can't
make head nor tail of them.

They may as well be
written in Chinese!

In Mandarin, yes.
And you're a student also?

Oh, God, no! No.
I... I work at Greggs.

I'm what you call...
emotionally intelligent.

Well, sadly,
that won't help you with the cryptic.

Sorry.

Yeah, tell me about it.

Anyway, Simon reckons you're
the Sphinx, or something.

- Do you write the crossword in the student paper?
- That's correct.

Crossword-setters traditionally
use a pseudonym, a made-up name.

- What, like Nina Noonah?
- Yes.

And I am know as the Sphinx.

It's not exactly a secret,
especially here on campus.

Anyway, I just thought that if I could maybe
see the answers to this week's crossword,

then I could sit with
Simon and be, like,

"18-down, do you think
that's Parachute?"

And he'd be like,
"Yeah! Wow, you're so clever, and..."

It was only meant to be a joke.
I'm really sorry.

No, no, no, I quite understand.

We all crave approbation
on some level.

Tell me, what does your
boyfriend study, Miss Noonah?

- Architecture.
- Architecture?

Well, I teach.

Yeah, I know.
I didn't think you were a student.

Simon says you teach Classics.

Is that, like, Gone With The Wind
and Pretty Woman and that?

I teach wild creature
without hospital building.

- Sorry, what?
- I teach...

wild creature...

without hospital building.

- 12 letters.
- It's a clue!

Yes. Not a very good one, I admit,
since you put me on the spot.

So... A cryptic clue
always offers up two means of solution.

The beginning or the
end of the sentence

gives you the
definition of the word.

Much as you might get
in a standard vanilla crossword.

And the rest of the clue
is the wordplay, if you like,

- which is a kind of riddle.
- Like on Catchphrase?

Yes, in a manner of speaking.

So, here we have a 12-letter word,
meaning "I teach", or "building".

Now, here we have
the word "wild",

which is what we refer to
as an anagram-indicator.

It suggests the letters
can be jumbled up and rearranged.

So anything such as
"upset", "excited", "insane".

- Mashed up!
- Yes, if you like.

- Wankered!
- That type of thing.

It's telling us to
mix up the letters.

So if we take the words
"I teach" and "creature"

and make them "wild",
we might come up with a solution.

OK, but that's too many letters.

Yes, very good.
We're two letters over.

So we look here,
"without hospital".

Now, in terms of letters,
what could "hospital" be?

- H?
- Yeah, but we need two letters, remember.

If you were to have an accident,
if I'd shot you here in the dark...

What, with an empty gun?
Good luck.

But if I had, you'd head
straight for which department?

- A&E?
- Excellent!

So if we remove "A"
and "E" from "creature"

ie "creature without hospital",

and mix it up with "I teach",
then we get an anagram of 12 letters

- meaning "building", which is...?
- Sorry, what?

Architecture!

See?
Not so hard, was it?

Is that in this
week's crossword, then?

No, no, no, no.
I haven't parsed it properly.

I buried the anagram-indicator
in the fodder, but...

it was simply an illustration.

What, in Pictionary,
you can draw it?

No.

No, I was...

I was just showing off.

Trying to give you some insight.

I'm sorry.

OK, then, Professor.

Sorry I woke you.

It's Nigel.

Nina.

Bye.

If you like, I can show you
the clues to tomorrow's crossword,

see if any of them make sense.

- You'd teach me?
- Yes.

I teach wild creature?

It's not quite Pygmalion, but...
I can give you some pointers.

Here.

Have a look.

The answers all go in this grid.

Have a look at one-across
and I'll make us some tea.

"To wound and wander
destitute (4, 3, 3)"

So, is this another nanagram?

Possibly. Look for a verb or an adjective
that suggests movement.

- Wander?
- Bingo!

So, how many of
these have you done?

Crosswords?
Four or five hundred.

You must have a
very devious mind.

It has been said.

The Sphinx is a mythical creature
of Greek legend.

A woman's head on a lion's body.

She guarded the gates
of the ancient city of Thebes.

Any traveller wishing to pass through
had first to solve her riddle.

If they failed the test,
she would kill them

by means of asphyxiation and then...
eat the remains.

No pressure, then.

She was devious and deadly.

Perfect for a
cryptic crossword-setter.

- "Down-and-out, meaning destitute."
- Excellent!

By Jove, she's got it!

Well, put it up on the grid.

Is that what all
the cups are for?

- Sorry?
- In the cabinet.

Yes.
The Cambridge Cruciverbalist Club, the CCC.

Much like the KKK,
only slightly less benevolent.

Is this...
Is this your wife?

Monica, yes.

Does she do the crossword?

She did.
She died last year.

Sorry.
Did you have kids?

No, no.

There is no more sombre enemy of
good art than the pram in the hall.

Well, you've
certainly won a lot.

It's not exactly the
boat race, though, is it?

How do you mean?

Well, you can't beat someone
at a crossword, can you?

I don't know, competitive solving
can be quite combative, believe me.

Blood has been spilt.

Metaphorically, of course.

What's black and
white and red all over?

The Cambridge
crossword competition.

Or a nun chewing a razorblade.

Or a penguin with sunburn.

I've got one, but it's
quite rude, though.

I teach Catullus, dear,
I'm hardly a prude.

What's long and hard and full of seamen?
A submarine.

Very good.

- And what's pink and hard in the mornings? The...
- A cock?

...Financial Times' crossword.

Have a look at...
two-down.

"This cover sounds
like a 50 Cent song."

Is that, like, a cover version?

"Sounds like"
indicates a homophone.

Do you know what a homophone is?

Is it an app for gays,
like Grinder?

No.
It's two words which sound the same,

but which are spelt differently,
like "their" and "there".

- Where?
- Think of a four-letter word meaning "to cover",

which sounds like a type of song.
Beginning with W?

- Wrap!
- Correct! That's two in two minutes!

You'll be challenging
for the Cup before long.

And, of course, one-down,

"Indian national product of
French-Italian agreement",

is simply "of" in French,

followed by an Italian
form of agreement,

making "Desi" a
person from India.

Why do you use such
difficult words?

Every word is chosen
for its letters, Nina.

For example, have
a look at 18-across.

18-across:
"Tory leader on board for English flower."

- So that's a five-letter word for Tory leader.
- Or...?

English flower?
Poppy!

- No.
- Daisy?

Don't guess, Nina, dear.
Deduct!

And don't take
anything for granted.

Now...
What could "Tory leader" be?

- Boris?
- No. Look at the word!

- T.
- That's right!

The leader of Tory is T.

So put T on to a four-letter
word for "board"...

- Plank! - Four letters.
- Wood. T-wood!

A board has more than
one meaning, remember.

- Fed up?
- No.

- Cardboard? Snowboard?
- What kind of board do you pay?

The exam board!

No. Rent!
You pay to board somewhere.

So put Tory leader "T" onto "rent",
it gives you...

Trent!
But that... that's not a flower.

- Who said it was a flower?
- You did!

No, you said flower.

What I actually
wrote was "flow-er".

Something that flows.

In this instance, an English
river called the Trent.

Oh, my God, that is...
That's so clever!

I knew you were devious!

- It's very satisfying, isn't it?
- It is.

So... Your boyfriend is reading architecture
at King's, is that correct?

- Yeah.
- Is he studying under Pugh or Fairbrother?

The first one.

And how's he getting
on with old Pugh?

He likes him.

Gladys Pugh.

He likes her.

You do realise that
Pugh and Fairbrother

are characters from the
comedy series Hi-de-Hi?

I've...
I've not seen it.

Well, lucky you.

So, Simon, if that's his real
name, isn't a student at all.

He's a muggle, just like you.

Why did you lie?

Because I didn't think you'd
take me seriously otherwise.

Does he work in Greggs also?

Don't patronise me, Professor, I...
I only want to learn.

Of course.

Nine-across!

"Degas evacuated and bathed
before putting big picture in bog."

- Oh, for fuck's sake!
- Patience, Nina, dear.

Now, "Degas evacuated".

If you evacuate something,
you clear it out.

So we remove the middle letters to leave "DS".
With me?

"Bathed" is another
word for "swam",

so "bathed before" means we
put "swam" in front of "DS".

And "putting big picture in".

We need to insert another word
for a big picture, a grand scheme, a...

- Plan.
- Plan! Precisely!

So we put "plan"
between "swam" and "DS"

to make "swamplands",
meaning "bog"! Yes?

- Yes?
- Well, shouldn't it be "bogs"?

- Not necessarily.
- You said it has to be precise.

Yes, it is precise.
Not a word wasted.

- Otherwise you'd be cheating, wouldn't you?
- I never cheat. Never!

Have...
Have something to drink.

Let's...
Let's have a bash at three-down, shall we?

That should be easy.

"A disturbed setter
concealed a tiny amount.

"Why, it's enough to
take one's breath away."

Well, the
crossword-setter is you,

so, have you concealed
a tiny amount, Mr Sphinx? Maybe.

So it's "A",
followed by an anagram of "Sphinx"

and "tiny amount" is "iota",

which is also the ninth letter
of the Greek alphabet,

which I'm sure you know,
Professor Squires.

And "why" is a homophone
of the letter "Y".

Meaning:
To take one's breath away.

It's rather prescient,
don't you think?

I spotted it as soon
as I saw the clues.

Some fairly easy ones
this week, I thought.

A little bit vanilla for the King
of the Cambridge Cruciverbalists.

"Dickens character undertakes
to be a cabinet maker."

Well, that's obviously
Sowerberry from Oliver Twist.

You'll be needing his
services before long.

"Some smart aleck,
no wit, allegedly."

Know-it-all.

But you don't know
it all, do you, Prof?

You didn't know, for example,
that I study Marine Biology.

And what's the porpoise
of that, you might ask?

Well, for one, I could get
my hands on some tetrodotoxin

from the liver of a puffer fish.

Highly toxic, as all the
best sushi chefs know.

And, if consumed in,
say, a cup of tea,

could lead to the gradual
paralysis of the internal organs,

starting with the diaphragm.

Resulting in respiratory
failure and death by three-down,

the asphyxiation of the Sphinx.

Simon was my brother.

He got to the final of the
crossword competition six years ago.

And he won!
He beat you fair and square!

But you challenged him on a word.
Do you remember?

"Auteur" saying the first
U looked more like a V.

And the committee
found in your favour.

The old boys' network
looking after their own.

And Simon was disqualified.

Do you know what he did?

Do you, you pathetic old man?

He went to his room and took
off his belt and hung himself.

I'm afraid that's
incorrect, Miss Noonah.

Pictures can be hung,
people are hanged.

"He hanged himself", is
the correct conjugation,

for which, of course, you
have my deepest sympathy.

What the fuck?!
You're supposed to be dead!

On the contrary.
I am very much alive.

It's you who are dead.

Will you permit me?

22-down: "What is a frankfurter's
number-one bun? Don't start."

Well, if we don't start "one" or "bun"
we get "neun",

which is a number,
if you happen to come from Frankfurt.

And 23-down: "The origins of a species
popularised savage serpents".

"Origins" telling us
to take the first letters of,

"a species popularised savage",
giving us the serpents.

So?

So there it is,
hiding in plain sight.

I... swapped... cups.

Very prescient, as you say,

but the individual's urge for
self-preservation is a strong one.

You bastard!

Oh, please!

No unnecessary violence.

It's me.

Yes, she is.

Your services will
soon be required.

That was Dr Tyler, your
personal tutor and confidant.

He's on his way over
now with the vaccine.

- He told you?
- Yes.

He...
He wouldn't do that.

Well, I'm afraid he
felt it was his duty.

A brilliant student midway through
a master's degree in Marine Biology,

but driven by a dark
desire for revenge.

You needed his expertise to
extract the poison from the poisson,

and he came straight
around to tell me.

We go back a long
way, Tyler and I.

Here!
Let me help you.

Why...
Why don't you call the police?

Sorry, what was that?

Why...
don't you call the police?

Well, why call the police when we can have
a little bit of fun with the crossword?

It's these kind of challenges
that keep one's mind active.

Let's have a
crack at five-down.

"Knocked back beer and wine, then
put on one French undergarment."

Any thoughts?

Well, "knocked back" is telling us
to write something in reverse.

In this instance,
a type of beer, "pils",

and a type of wine, "red".

Then, if we put on "one" in French,
which is "un",

we get our undergarment.
See?

"Un-der-slip."

Do young women still wear underslips,
I wonder?

I always found it quite sexy,
having an extra layer to tackle.

Made the game rather
more interesting.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
nature calls.

Charlotte?

You hang on in there, OK?

Won't be long now.

Crossword.

"I hear American poet solved
the riddle of the pseudo-hotel patron."

The American poet is Edgar Guest.
Mr E Guest.

"A riddle solved"
is a mystery guessed

and a "pseudo-hotel
patron" is a...?

Mystery guest.
Very clever.

Where have you been?
You said you'd be waiting outside.

I had to go via my office
to pick up some things.

A bit bloody dangerous, leaving me
alone with a girl in this condition.

It was all I could do
not to slip her one.

Oh, no, I don't think
that would be appropriate.

I'm a red-blooded
mammal, Tyler,

not like those bloody molluscs
you spend half your time with.

She's still breathing,
I take it?

Yes. The body can survive
in this state for up to six hours.

She can still see
and feel and hear everything,

she just...
can't move.

It's horrible.

Yes.
Well, let's not feel too sorry for her,

that's what she wanted
to do to me, remember?

- Well, go on, then.
- Sorry?

Give her the antidote.

There is no antidote.

- What?
- For tetrodotoxin poisoning. She needs her stomach pumped.

Some aggressive
airway management

and an intravenous drip
as soon as possible,

otherwise she'll be
dead within half an hour.

But...
But you said six hours!

Only with hospital treatment.

Shit!
Right, well, let's do it, then.

No.

There's something I
want you to do first.

- Is that going in this week's Varsity?
- What?!

- The crossword.
- Yes.

W... W... W... What's going on?
What are you doing?!

I want you to eat her.

Not all of her, of
course, just a sliver.

Just enough that you can
say you devoured your victim.

Jacob, what...?
Have you lost your mind?!

When the Sphinx posed
her riddle to the Thebans,

she strangled and ate anyone
who failed to answer correctly.

That's right, isn't it?
I haven't misremembered it?

Yes.

What was the riddle again?

I won't do this, Jacob.

"What creature walks on
four legs in the morning,

"two at noon and
three in the evening?"

It's like something out of a Christmas
cracker rather than a Greek tragedy, isn't it?

And it was Oedipus who gave the correct answer
- man.

He crawls as a baby,

then walks on two legs,

before needing a
stick in his old age.

A bit like you, Nigel.

So...
Do you prefer leg or breast?

That's it,
I'm calling the police.

And tell them what exactly?

That you're the victim
of a student prank?

In 25 minutes, you'll have
a dead girl in your rooms

in the middle of the night.

You found out who she was, she
threatened you, so you killed her.

No! I'll tell them the truth...
I'll say it was an accident.

Well, then,
how do you explain this?

You compiled this crossword
two days ago.

It proves premeditation.

The know-it-all received
a mystery guest at number neun

and before long,
there's an asphyxiation.

What's seven-down?

"Catch a train before
a poisonous bite."

Well, "catch" usually stands for "fish",
I know that much.

"A train before" could be "puffer".

So, yeah, "puffer fish".

You even
concealed the murder weapon.

I knew you
wouldn't be able to resist.

This was just a bit of fun,
I was trying to teach the girl!

You're publishing this in the
student paper for everyone to see.

It's classic psychopathic behaviour.

Tomorrow morning,
it'll be in every cubbyhole in Cambridge.

And on the inside back
page is your confession.

And when a "down-and-out"
finds the girl

"wrapped" in her "underslip"
floating in the "swamplands",

well, the police won't have to look
very far for the culprit, will they?

- That isn't what happened!
- No, but it could do.

A little drive out to the Fens,
acquaint our brilliant student

with some of the marine
life she loves so much.

You see, you're not
in charge of this situation.

You can't fit it all neatly
into a 15-squared grid.

This is messy and illogical
and out of control.

This is my revenge, Nigel.

So sit down whilst
I prepare your food!

But she's your student,
for God's sake!

No!

I think I'll take
a bit off the rump.

Why don't you
tell Nina the story?

I bet she'd like to hear it.

Keep her mind active
as her body seizes up.

Jacob and I were...
students here almost 30 years ago.

We roomed together for a while,

then he met Monica, a
physicist from Keeble.

They were madly in love.

They were madly in love, they...
married,

they even had two
children, twins.

But Monica and I...
We began an affair.

I didn't mean for it to
end up the way it did!

I was about to
begin my doctorate,

which probably would have
led to a teaching post,

a room of my own, very
much like this one.

But instead, I divorced my wife,

took my babies away,

to bring them up by myself,
in the Brecon Beacons.

Here.
I haven't seasoned it,

I didn't want to take away from the...
natural flavour.

Jacob, this is...

...this is preposterous!

Eat it, or else I let the girl die
and you rot in prison.

It tastes like
chicken, apparently.

But, then, doesn't everything?

And so, the mighty Sphinx

consumes the flesh
of his conquest.

I always hated
cryptic crosswords.

Why can't people just say what they mean,
rather than trying to trick you all the time?

It's when my son started
getting into them I wasn't happy.

Became obsessed with entering
the stupid Cambridge crossword competition.

Perhaps he thought he could
re-earn his mother's love

by beating her new husband,
I don't know.

Simon was your son?

He entered the competition
under a pseudonym.

You knew him as Rex.

After Oedipus Rex,
the play by Sophocles.

But you cheated him
out of his victory.

But that means...

Charlotte and I, we hatched
our revenge plan, didn't we?

We said we would bring down
that cheating Professor Squires

if it was the last thing we did.

And it may well be.

At least for her.

She's your daughter?

It's crazy, isn't it,
what the unhinged mind is capable of?

But she came here tonight to kill me,
to poison me!

That was the plan.

So, why did you
tell me about it?

Just so I'd do the crossword?

Pretty much, yes.
I needed leverage.

You sacrificed your only
daughter just to get at me?

Well, that's the thing, you see.

When Simon died,
there was an autopsy.

Quite a thorough investigation.

It turns out they're not my kids.

They're yours.

I always suspected that affair
started before you said it did.

Oh, God!

So there I was.

I'd given up everything.

My wife...

...my home, my job.

My entire life.

All for a lie.

So I'm sure you understand, Nigel,
why I had to seek my revenge.

Help me get her
to a hospital, please!

I think we're past that now.

Just enjoy the time
you have left together.

A little present for you there, Nigel.

You know what Anton said.

Never show a gun in Act One

if you're not going
to fire it by Act Five.

Otherwise people feel cheated.

Isn't your middle name Hector,
by the way?

Yes.

How funny.

- Corrected by darthfrede -
-- www.addic7ed.com --